The Ways of a Grieving Soul
by LSMunch
Summary: We all know that John Munch was deeply affected by Emily McKenna's case. But just how much?
1. The little girl

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Law and Order: SVU. That wonderful privilege goes to the genius Dick Wolf who unknowingly created a load of freaks that write stories using characters he's made up

Now, on with the show.

He stood on the wet grass, silently memorizing the headstone before him. It had been a long time since he'd last visited this place, this city of the dead. The graves that surrounded him brought too many bad memories to mind, too many losses, too much pain. The grave in front of him, especially, brought back so much pain; he had tears in his eyes. He hadn't even really known her, only by face, by the look in her eyes. The pain they held, the pleading. And to think, he had almost let her down again. Almost.

Detective John Munch was a man of secrets, a man of mystery and a man that with held great suffering. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been married, only to get divorced. Lost count as to how many times he had lost a loved one to God. Lost count as to how many cases he'd caught that stabbed relentlessly into his heart, reminding him constantly of some instance or another in his life when he'd gone through that same pain before, the same sense of loss.

He stood there, staring down at the patch of earth before him. Beneath that earth, he could almost see a little girl staring back up at him, telling him over and over, I asked for help and you didn't. I waited day in and day out, only to be let down. Why?

John didn't know the answer to that question, knew he would never understand why he never said anything, did anything. He let a little girl die, just because he was too wrapped up in his teenage crap to give a damn. Yet she waited, day in and day out. Waited for him to say something, do something other than stare up at her and then continue on his way. How could he have been so stupid, so uncaring?

This last case hadn't been easy for him. It brought up torturous memories that he tried in vain to push to the back of his mind with other dormant memories. It had been a little girl and the mere thought of her lying in that hospital bed caused a few tears to slip past his eyelids and run down his face. Getting the mother to confess had brought joy and agony to his heart, though more agony than anything else. He'd gone up to the roof to clear his head, try again to restore calm to his storming mind. Then Olivia came up. He should've known. Should've know that someone would follow him up. Even now, the day after, he could remember what he'd said to her.

"Months later, I'd walk home and look up at the porch and I swear I'd see that little girl standing there with that same look in her eyes. I almost let her down again." He'd nearly cried right then, up on that rooftop in the middle of a bustling city with Olivia standing beside him. Barely contained the grief and tears that threatened to overcome him like a tidal wave after an earthquake.

He'd spent that night at the hospital, praying that Emily McKenna would be all right, that she'd pull through. He didn't care that it probably wouldn't work, didn't care if he was reading a Dr. Seuss book to a girl in a coma. "But on you will go, though the weather be foul; On you will go, though your enemies prowl; On you will go, though the Hakken-Kraks howl; Onward up many, a frightening creek; though your arms may get sore, and your sneakers may leak; On and on you will hike; And I know you'll hike far; and face up to your problems, whatever they are." Those few verses echoed in his mind, even now, hours later.

He'd gone to work the next day tired and disgruntled, clothes rumpled and hair mussed. They'd all looked at him oddly, but guessed the reason to his appearance and let him alone. He'd left work early, driving quietly through the New York traffic and on through to the cemetery where his neighbor had been buried. How he remembered where it was, was still a mystery to him as he stood now, looking at the grey skies that foreshadowed rain.

John stood there for a long time, past the thunder storm that came and went, drenching him in the process, but then again, the weather paid no heed to grieving souls. It wasn't until he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket that he snapped out of his reverie.

"Munch," he answered, voice hoarse after being silent for so long. He nodded once, twice, then swore. "I'll be right there," he said quietly. He looked down on the grave one last time before walking away, his steps quickening the farther he got from the burial ground of that little girl he'd let down so long ago.

A/N: WARNING, THIS IS NOT THE END!!!! There is one more chapter. Keep reading.......


	2. Emily McKenna

Disclaimer: Yeah, i don't own the characters.....you know the rest.

He stood at the gates of the cemetery, hating the fact that he was there again in so short a time. Just the other day he had stood within these gates, mourning the loss of a little girl, forgotten by many, remembered by one. He'd wondered then how could he have let a little girl die at the hands of her mother, and he'd done it again. He'd let her down, let Emily down. All that praying for nothing. He should've known better. Should've known that praying to a God that hadn't helped him before wasn't going to miraculously work. The world didn't spin that way.

Detective John Munch finally brought up enough courage to walk through the gates and he joined a small procession leading to a distant plot of earth squared off for a coffin too small to hold an adult. Only a child could ever fit into a box that size. As he took his seat, he pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket, slowly reading over it before the ceremony began. He listened as her father spoke and then was led back to his seat, crying. Just the simple act of the father crying made John want to cry himself, but he remained strong, though for how long, he didn't know.

It came to his turn to speak and he looked to all the faces, both familiar and strange, as he made his way up to the platform. He stood, setting the piece of paper on the podium and examining the faces of the crowd before him. There was Elliot, Olivia, Fin and Captain Cragen in the row where he had been sitting. The girl's father, stepfather, half-brother and stepbrother sat in the front row, there out of respect more than love.

Finally gathering the strength to start, he did. "A lot of people would say that the little girl in that coffin had so much ahead of her. Many people would say that it's a shame that she died this early in life. Many would think to the future, to what she could have been, should have been. I, on the other hand, looked to the past, my past. It was only a few days ago when I stood in this same cemetery and mourned the loss of another little girl. A neighbor of mine from when I was a teenager.

"I didn't know Emily that well. All I knew was that she suffered a blow to the back of the head, which eventually caused her death. All I knew was her name, her age and some small details of her case. I was asked to speak today because of my past, my memories. Not all of them, but one specific memory that this case called to mind.

"When I was a teenager, I would walk home from school and every day I'd see the little girl across the street standing on her porch. Some days she had a black eye or a bloody lip, but I was too wrapped up in my teenage crap to give a damn. Her eyes always had this look to them that I could never quite place. One day, she wasn't there. I found out later that her mother had thrown her through a plexi glass window, killing her. I remember going to her funeral and seeing her father. It was the first time I saw a grown man cry.

"A few days later, when the mother was being arrested, I heard her telling my mother that she didn't know what the big deal was, she was the one who had to buy a new window." He paused, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly before continuing. "Months later, I'd walk home and look up at that porch and I swear I'd see that little girl standing there, with that same look in her eyes." He paused again, looking away from the crowd, wiping his eyes and sniffing. "I let that little girl down and now I let down Emily." He sniffed again. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he gently placed a hand on the small coffin beside him.

As he made his way back to his seat, he heard people crying quietly or sniffling. He felt tears slipping past his defenses and rolling down his cheeks. The closer he got to his seat, the faster they seemed to fall, and by the time he collapsed into his chair, they were running freely down his tired face and falling to the ground. He took his glasses off and placed them on his knee as he tried to stall the flow of tears, but it was useless, they refused to cooperate.

Somewhere to his right he heard Fin saying his name over and over again, trying to soother him. "John, John. It's all right. Let 'em fall, man. Let 'em go, let 'em go. I'm here, man, I'm here." And he turned to his partner and suddenly buried his face into Fin's shoulder, the tears staining his friend's jacket. Fin rubbed his partners back and whispered softly in his ear as John let all the pain, all the memories wash over him like a swollen river of hurt, smoothing the years' bumpy ride in one long stream of tears.

Later that day, as John watched the coffin being lowered into its hole of earth, he swore to himself silently that this would be the last funeral like this he ever attended. As he watched, the skies opened up and let their tears pour down on him, but then again, the weather pays no heed to grieving souls.

A/N: snif Is it the end? sob, sniffle I think so, but if popular vote say to continue, i shall rack my brain for another chapter, though I think this quite finishes it, don't you think?


	3. Suppposed to be Here

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own anything affiliated with SVU. That pleasure belongs to Dick Wolf, as do the characters. God bless the man and his brain.

He's dead. So simple a fact, but so complex a feeling. Its almost unfathomable, his death I mean. I guess I knew someday it would happen, but Lord knows I'd rather him be here, sitting at his desk, helping solve a case. I guess, in the end, it all got to him, the brutality, the rape, the _pain_. I know that it gets to me sometimes. It gets to all of us, some cases more than others. We all try to keep it impersonal, but there is always going to be that one. That one that makes you break down inside. That one that drives you to the brink, that makes you want to do anything you can to solve it.

He had one like that. I've never seen him like that before. When she died, something in him died and it was sheer tortures to see him like that, especially when he was the one who usually stood strong and didn't let his emotions get in the way. He was always there to make me laugh, us laugh. Sure, there were times when he annoyed the hell out of us, but everyone is annoying at times.

I still can't believe he's gone. He's not supposed to be dead. He's supposed to be sitting at his desk, clicking around on his computer or complaining about one thing or another. Supposed to be here to be angry with the perps, kind with the victims, frustrated with cold cases, irritated with the law. He's supposed to be here. God, why isn't he here?


	4. If Only

Disclaimer: I know I've already told you this people, so why do I keep saying it? Oh yeah, so my ass won't get sued. Gotcha. I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to Dick Wolf. Happy? Now read.

Now, on with the show.

He never came back. He went to check on a lead and he never came back. We thought there was traffic or something holding him up, not some high junkie. The worst fear any of us have is being killed on the job. Going out to arrest someone, or just question them, and not coming back, or even coming back in bandages. No cop wants that to happen, but if we don't put our necks out there, who will?

He stuck his neck out farther than most of us. He knew how to get someone to talk, whether it be perp or victim or someone in between. He was always at work before anyone else and usually left last. When Captain told me, I felt my chest tighten at the thought of a partner, a friend dying. I know its selfish, but all I could think was, thank god it wasn't me. Thank god it wasn't Olivia.

This is the second time in two weeks that I'm coming here, to this city of angels. I know he'll be fine here, among the dead, though I wish he hadn't died so soon. If only he had just taken someone with him. If only he had sent someone else. If only he had waited another day. If only...if only....


	5. If He Could See Me Now

Disclaimer: -tired voice- I do not own SVU. Dick Wolf does.

Now, on with the show.

Where is he? He's always here, he always comes back. No, no he's not...dead. He can't be. He just went home after questioning. He was tired, didn't want to come back to work. It was late and it was a long day. He just needed some rest, in his own bed.

Why is he dead? Why him, why me? Why didn't he let me go with him? Why didn't he call for backup? He knew the neighborhood was rough and he didn't ask for help. Why? Why didn't he call for help? He needed it and he didn't ask. Typical of him, I guess. He should've told me more, told me more about him, his life, his past, his pain.

We were friends, partners, never lovers, but good friends. The problems in our past linking us by a common pain. If he could see me now, rambling on and on about him being gone. Probably shoot out one of his comments. If he could see me now, feverishly writing my thoughts down on paper, savoring the memory of his humor, his seriousness, him in general. Lord, if he could see me now...Lord, how I wish he could see me and me him. Lord, please...

A/N: I'm srry the chapters are short, but they're all from different POVs and they all deserve their own chapters. Anyways, keep reading!


	6. Dreading Everything

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own SVU. Dick Wolf does and he's a genius.

Now, on with the show.

I had wondered what was taking him so long. The thought that he would die questioning the mother of a rape victim never crossed my mind. How could he die just asking about a rape victim from her mother? I always knew I could get a call like that one day. Knew that any one of my detectives, or anyone else, could get killed on the job. I never wanted that call though, no one wants that call. It was my worst fear, still is.

Telling the remaining three detectives what happened was hardest. After I wiped the wetness from my eyes, I stood in the doorway, watching, listening as they went about their business. His desk was the only one vacant and something inside me was vacant as well. I listened to them joke, watched them laugh and work.

I never realized how much he brought to this squad room, never. He was part of the place, forever present. The room seemed bigger without him. I sighed and called his partners name, dreading his reaction, dreading the others' reactions, dreading how I would feel the next morning when I would walk in and turn to greet him to find him not there. Dreading the feel of this squad room with someone else sitting at his desk, doing his job. God, I hate this job.

A/N: New chapter in the works. Might take a while, i don't know. Please review and tell me you like it, scratch that, tell meif you love it....


	7. How could I be dead?

A/N: This is not the last chapter, there is one more after so don't stop reading and reviewing. Thank you Singing Daisy for the reviews, or were they?

Anyways......

What am I doing here again? Who died now? I think I'm beginning to hate this place. Cragen's here, Elliot, Olivia, my partner. So is Lennie Briscoe, Brian Cassidy, Monique Jeffries. Why are they all here? Did another cop get shot? Oh, I'll find out soon enough. I make my way to an empty seat on one side of Cragen. "Hey, Boss," I say, but he doesn't look at me. He's staring up at the casket, a few tears in his eyes. Must've been someone close.

A man I don't recognize steps up and begins to talk. I can't really hear what he's saying but soon Elliot gets up to speak. Oh boy, it's someone in our squad. "Every day we, as cops, put our necks out on the line to protect those in this city. We solve cases, as detectives, to put the bad guys in jail. Every day, we go out and see the worst things man can do to one another. He was there with us every day to keep the people as safe as possible. He worked hard at this job, this job that we all love and hate." He looked down at the coffin and lightly ran a hand over it, muttering something lost to all but him.

Olivia rose and made her way to the podium, passing Elliot and giving him a small, reassuring smile. "I've known this man lying here for a couple years now. Known his humor, known his pain and known some of his past. Known how he hated the people we arrested, known how he hated the things we saw. Known how he took it all in silence, withholding his pain, letting it boil inside him until we caught a case that he was drawn to. He would put all his energy into that case, letting the boiled pain drive him to the edge and back again." She paused and fixed her eyes on my partner and Elliot, for support I guess. "This time, he didn't come back," she said softly, almost too soft to hear.

Next, my partner stood, his face gray, pain written all over it in more ways than one. He stood at the podium for a while, looking at the crowd of mourners. "When you become partners with another cop, you're a team, a machine that can function under anything. You get to know your partner as intimately as you do a spouse. When a partner dies, something in you dies. You'll forever compare him to your new partner. Always." Tears had sprung to his eyes and he wiped them away as he looked down at the casket. He traced a hand down the length and made his way back to his seat where Olivia leaned over and whispered something to him. He nodded and Cragen began to speak.

"No commander wants to get a phone call telling them one of their men is down, never to get up again. No commander wants to lose a cop, especially a good one, one who willingly risks his life to help the victims, the innocents. He wasn't normally sensitive, but when the need called for it, he tried. He was a damn good cop and I'm sorry he's gone. I'd give anything to have him back, hear him joke, hear him arrest a perp, hear him laugh, watch him work. I know anyone in my squad would do the same, even if we all wanted to hurt him at one point. He was well loved and respected and I know I speak for everyone who worked with him in saying, he never knew how to tell us he felt the same about us. He will be missed, whether he likes it or not." Giving a small, sad smile, he said simply, "Goodbye, John."

I sat, shocked, as he made his way back to his seat. It was me in that casket. This was my funeral. I was dead. A few more people rose to speak, but I didn't hear what they said. It was suddenly like I was floating above the crowd, a cloud passing by and giving witness to a mournful spectacle. People started to rise around me, going up to the casket to place flowers or tokens near it. I still didn't get it. How could I be at my own funeral? Is this a dream? Am I really dead?


	8. The Final Goodbye is Always the Hardest

A/N: Here it is. The last chapter. When you're done reading and then crying your eyeballs out, please review.

The mourners made their way up to the casket, murmuring to one another, remembering the man they all knew and loved at one point or another. Flowers were placed on and around the coffin, people letting tears slip down their stinging cheeks as they left pictures, small tokens or even letters. Elliot, Olivia, Fin and Cragen hung back, letting the few friends and family pay their respects before they each said goodbye one last time.

"I never thought he'd die this way," Olivia said after a while. "Never crossed my mind that he could get killed any day of the week. Never crossed my mind that any of us could die. I always knew, somewhere, that we wouldn't come back one day, but it never seemed real."

"I know 'Liv, I know," Elliot comforted. Kathy and the kids came over.

"Are you ready, Elliot?" Kathy asked.

"In a minute." He gave a little smile, trying to tell her he was fine, but she knew he wasn't. Knew he wouldn't be for a long time, if ever. She herded their children towards the gates, hushing them when they asked a question. Elliot watched them as they moved away then looked back up at the casket. The mourners had almost all dispersed and there were only a couple of people left now.

Elliot went up with Olivia, each laying a flower upon the coffin. They stood for a moment and left, Olivia with tears in her eyes. Then Fin and Cragen went up, each laying a flower on the box as well. Fin glanced at the coffin quickly, then pulled out a picture of his deceased partner. He left as Cragen stood, looking down at the casket.

"You know, John, you will be missed. I don't think you ever fully knew the amount of love and respect you received on a day to day basis. God, this is hard. There were times when I wanted to strangle you, and others when honestly, I wanted to hug you for the good you did. For the things you figured out, even if it did mean listening to wacky conspiracy theories." He laughed lightly. "Never thought I'd miss you this much, John. Never thought I'd have to stand here and say goodbye to you one last time." He wiped a tear from his eye. Looking up to the sky, he said, "Goodbye, Munch," as the heavens opened up and the rain fell. After all, the weather pays no heed to grieving souls.

A/N: Don't you just hate me for killing him? I hate me for killing him. -snif...snif...sob...snuffle- I wish I didn't do it but I did. I KILLED MUNCH!!! AAHH!! -sob...sob...sob...sob...sob...sob...sob...sob...sob...sob...sob- WHY DID I DO IT? Anyways, when you're done crying, god knows I did, please review. It might make me bring him back, in another story at least.


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